


We Can Always Recall

by musiclily88



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AIWFCILA, All I Want For Christmas Is Love Actually, Christmas, Crack, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Houis - Freeform, Larry Stylinson Is Real, M/M, Prince Louis, Prince and the frog, Princes & Princesses, Royalty, Short, frog harry, frog prince - Freeform, prince - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 11:48:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2849819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a prince and Harry is a fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Always Recall

**Author's Note:**

> UM I quick-wrote this on Christmas Eve and it's so short but also crack-fluff and cute? MAYBE

Prince Louis unbuttoned the jacket of his suit before bending down to scoop up his toddler-aged sister Dorie. Her blonde hair curled around her chubby face, and they both grinned. “Sugarpie honey bunch! Little sis, it’s only one more sleep til Christmas!”

Doris shrieked and threw her arms around Louis’ neck, tucking her stuffed frog against his chin. “Lou!” she yelled directly into his hear. “Only one more sleep! One more!”

“Gimme a smooch, little lady, before I turn into a pumpkin!” He set Doris down, careful of the lines of his suit. Her slipper-clad feet settled onto the wooden floor as he balanced his hands against her tiny waist.

“Kiss my froggy too, Lou, come on!” she demanded, poking him in the cheek with her toy.

He laughed and took the toy from her, hugging it gently before planting a loud kiss on its face.

And that was kind of where everything went to shit.

:::

“You’re a _prince?”_

He was brunet and very much attractively Louis’ probable soulmate.

“You were just—a frog!”

“Yeah! And you’re my prince!”

“I’m your _what now?”_ Louis desperately clambered away from him.

“Prince!” The—frog-lad, or whatever, looked at Louis all innocence and light, with bright green eyes and floppy brown hair. Damn.

“Sure. Okay. Pause. I need to go make sure we haven’t traumatised England’s youngest princess, and then make an appearance at my family’s Christmas party. As crown Prince.” Louis heaved out a loud sigh, trying to straighten his tie without getting too close to the obvious fever-dream who was currently inhabiting Louis’ bedroom.

“Okay!” The stranger hopped (oh god, hopped) to his feet, smoothing down the front of the trousers that Louis had lent him. Given him? “I’ll come with you!”

“You can—you can stay here if you want, that’s fine. Safe here. Very safe. I’m the prince, after all, and this is my room!”

“But I like you! And I’d be bored here.”

“Bored?”

“I can actually _talk_ now, Louis. I want to talk to you!”

“Talk to me?”

“You’re _very_ interesting, I know that much.”

“What?” Louis gaped.

“I’m best friends with Doris. I know all about you!” he crowed, clapping his hands.

“Right. Sure. That. What am I supposed to call you? Since you know all about me, apparently. And I’m Louis.”

“Oh, I’m Harry. I’m a frog meant to end up with a prince. Hey, Louis. That’s you!”

:::

Louis led Harry by the hand for a time, trying ensure that Doris wasn’t actually terrorized by the fact that her stuffed frog had turned into a lanky, stark-naked man-child. When he marched into her room, he found that she was sleeping, clutching a bean-bag cat.

So apparently Louis was the only one flipping out.

He then pulled “Harry” into the party, the combined _holiday/ birthday/ Christmas/ these-royals-don’t-celebrate-Hanauka-but-others-do!_ party. Louis would have preferred just a bit of lager with some mates, but those were the ropes for a prince.

Apparently, the ropes for a prince also meant lugging around a beautiful and stupidly naïve man who Louis had seen transmorph out of the shape of a frog.

“Is transmorph a word?” Louis asked as he straightened Harry’s tie, which was his own tie wrapped around Harry’s lovely neck.

“Sure!”

“Right. So you morphed from a frog into a boy? With a kiss. From me.”

“From a prince, right. But I’m not a boy. I’m twenty-two! I’m a man!”

“Well, you still have to convince my gran that you’re not a sheister out to steal the throne from her trusting grandson.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and his lips curved down. “I would never.”

“Sure, okay. Follow my lead.” Louis nodded, once.

He brightened. “I can do that!” He slipped his hand into Louis’ and grinned. “I’m all yours.”

:::

“So I think that went well!” Harry exclaimed, collapsing onto Louis’ bed _beside_ Louis. 

“It—actually, it probably did, it did go okay.”

“I know!” Harry tipped into his side and curled against Louis. They locked eyes, Louis biting at his own bottom lip. “Hi,” Harry drawled, snaking out one hand to touch Louis’ hip.

“No, ah!” Louis bucked away, falling off the mattress. “Oops,” he sighed loudly, flat on his back. “I’m ticklish.”

“You’re cute.”

Louis knelt up quickly, his eyes just barely gracing the edge of the duvet. “I’m what now?”

“Cute!”

“You’re a frog.”

“Not anymore, though. Now I’m yours!”

“My what?” He clambered onto the bed slowly, daring, just a bit.

“Your—yours?” Harry considered, tipping his head to one side. Louis clambered back onto the bed, scooting over slowly. “Your, like, person?”

“Not my frog?”

“Not a frog anymore, innit?”

“True.” Louis walked himself forward on his knees, narrowing his eyes. “Not a frog.”

Harry smiled, his face going expansive and bright again. He looked like Christmas, like sparklers and party poppers and champagne. Louis was entranced. “I’m not!”

Louis hummed before nodding. “I know.” He leaned forward slowly and pressed his lips against Harry’s.

And there he was, alone, on a duvet with a moss-green stuffed frog.

Damn.

:::

He kissed the _frog_ again immediately, not being a self-hating fool, and was terrifyingly gratified when Harry, normal Harry, popped backed into existence against Louis’ bed.

“Oh no,” Harry said immediately. His gaze dropped to his crotch, which was again naked.

“Oh no,” Louis agreed, not really agreeing.

“Don’t kiss me yet!” Harry yelled, flopping across the duvet starfish-style, all tan skin and long legs.

“I can’t kiss you at all!” Louis tried not to look at Harry, but was drawn to the image of his golden skin and giant—

“Hey!”

“Not at this rate, not if I don’t—fuck. Want you to turn into the frog again! So I can’t kiss you!”

“I’m sorry!” Harry flipped over onto his stomach, which was similarly terrible, because he had a tiny, pert arse, _not that Louis noticed._

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” Harry groaned into the pillow.

“Damn it!”

:::

“No, but, Ni. What do I do? You’re my advisor. Advise!”

“I’m not actually your advisor, I just sort of—hang about with you, mate,” Niall said slowly, poking at one of Harry’s dimples slowly. “So, a frog?”

“Yep!” Harry agreed readily, nodding against Niall’s finger. He had changed into basketball shorts and a vest, which did nothing to combat Louis’ pinking cheeks. “Louis is my prince,” he added, drawling out his sentence as though it had true meaning.

“Your prince.”

“Yep.”

“And you—turn into a frog again every time he kisses you?”

“We’ve only kissed once,” Louis muttered, dipping his head.

“Three times, if you count the frog times.”

“Do you?” Louis demanded, eyes narrowing.

“Yep.” Harry nodded, shrugging. “Are you hungry, Niall? Are you hungry, Louis? I find I’m quite hungry. Plus I miss the company of my lovely Doris. Is she around? Can we have tea with her? I do love having tea.”

“Um, she’s asleep,” Louis said, blinking. “But we can have tea?”

:::

They traipsed to the kitchen in a unit, Louis first with Niall last, both of them leading Harry like a lost baby goat. Niall poured out some milk while Louis shoved bread into the toaster, both of them keeping Harry in the corner of their eyes.

“I’m not a—a terrorist,” Harry said slowly, testing the word out on his tongue. “I am just a foreigner.”

“Where are you from?” Niall asked immediately, jumping toward Harry. “I’m from Ireland.”

“I’m from the Elsewhere, of course. Sent here for a purpose.” Harry blinked twice at Niall, then three times at Louis. “Of course.”

“Were you always a frog?” Louis asked, his voice pitching high at the last moment, despite himself.

“Once I was a dolphin, but I can’t swim for shit. Oh, I—I can swear in this universe! How peculiar!”

“Get used to it, mate,” Niall said with a snort. “If you need to end up with this sad sack, anyway,” he added, thumbing to Louis.

Louis sighed loudly, taking everything out of the toaster. “He’s not wrong.”

:::

Louis had of course meant to fall asleep in the chaise across the room from his bed but Harry had requested a bedtime story and a backrub and a head massage and—well, Louis woke up spooned against Harry’s side, warm and comfortable. And, naturally, his mother was across the room in an armchair, looking imperious and so, so awake.

“I can—explain?” Louis croaked.

“Oh, dear. No need.”

Louis, once again, fell of his bed. “Why not?”

“I was waiting for this, of course. We all were!” She grinned at him, triumphant and proud.

“For me to fall asleep with a boy?”

“For you to find your love.”

“He’s a—he’s my love?”

“What form did he take, this one?”

“What?”

“Mine was the most darling stallion, don’t you know. Although he passed before your stepfather came along, which is sometimes the way of Fate, of course, but I knew love like you can’t imagine—well of course you can’t yet imagine, can you, my darling, you’ve only just met the boy!”

“Right, the boy. He’s—he’s—“ And here Louis was at a loss, sitting on the Persian rug that lined his bedroom floor.

“He’s a which-what?”

“Frog.”

Jay nodded sagely. “Not as unusual as you would think.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Frogs! They’re small enough to carry around and look innocuous, right?”

“But he—he turned back, again, and what if it’s—“ He trailed off, stopping himself from saying the very worst thing.

“Permanent?”

“Forever,” he amended.

“Love.” His mother gave him a small smile. “Love is the thing. Once you marry him, you’ll stay mortals forever.”

“Mortals, though?”

“For good or for ill, your love stays on the mortal plane once you wed. And it’s beautiful. And it’s everything! It’s the most beautiful thing,” she whispered, smiling just a bit. “I promise.”

“Mum, I just.”

“You’re all right, love. Just wake him up.” She left the room without another word.

:::

Vows having been read, kisses having been exchanged, Louis and Harry danced among their guests regally, like individuals used to prophecies, curses, and spells. They stayed human for years and ages, past generations and great-grandchildren, until eventually, they saw fit to become members of the Forever Realm. Together. Of course, together, forever, together.


End file.
